Fumes of Sulphur
by TheWarriorQueen
Summary: Bellatrix reflects in Azkaban on maddened thoughts of bygone years. For NotJustAMuggle. Oneshot. Dark. Complete.


**Bellatrix reflects in Azkaban, on maddened thoughts of bygone years. For NotJustAMuggle. Oneshot. Dark. Probably complete, although I may add to it if inspiration (read: depression) strikes. I'm a little freaked out, because it is precisely 666 words in length. Oh well, strangely symbolic.**

**Disclaimer: Although the thoughts herein are mine, the woman I am claiming thought them is not.**

* * *

I am a spectre, a wraith, a phantom. I am the one who walks in darkness, in shadows, in gloom. I used to be a person, with feelings, emotions, passions. I used to walk in the light, in sunbeams, in joy. What happened?

I suppose it all started years ago…

* * *

Very, very little is worse than loneliness. It is a ravenous wolf, clawing and biting at all that I clutch at to keep me sane, leaving me in tatters. It shreds my self-esteem, and rips at my will to live. Loneliness is a terrifying menace that gnaws at my heart, devouring my pride.

I enjoy solitude, a gentler creature to the beast I now attempt to control. Solitude is a peaceful wolf sleeping with its head in my lap, its rhythmic breaths the song of the universe. It can be found anywhere that crass, noisy people aren't, and all it takes is a moment of time. When solitude is my companion, I walk down the path of serenity.

Loneliness is a different beast, a horror that tears me apart. It can even capture me in the midst of people, even during a conversation, alienating me from the universe, setting me at odds with life itself. When loneliness drives me, I walk a dark and forbidding path.

I am beset by the snarling monster oftener nowadays than before. Those around me say I have no reason to be lonely, as it is my fault for being anti-social. They have never known the tender being that is solitude, and confuse my love for that placid entity with a desire for the predation of loneliness. I pity them, for they have never known that sweet harmony, but I envy them, for if you've never felt solitude, loneliness is not so bad without the contrast. If you've never known the solitude that should be, you cannot tell that loneliness is an abomination that should not be.

* * *

I stand in an ever descending whirlpool of madness, sucking me ever deeper into this feral insanity. If you are not careful, you too will be sucked in, sucked down. You stand in the eye, the tremulously fragile eye of the storm, whilst I stand at its vortex, the very epicentre of the beckoning madness. Beware, lest my ever-increasing lunacy rip you from your delicate tethers and draw you inexorably inwards, further towards this focus of insanity.

I am mad, you are mad, the world is mad. I revel in the daring lunacy that overwhelms my quivering mind. It is pointless to fly the encroaching storm. Surrender yourself to being carried, moved, dashed to pieces, and ruined by the immense power of this madness. This insanity dwells within, longing for its violent release. It thrums through my blood, my very heart beats to its chords. Flee, flee, for I have unleashed this madness, this storm of epic proportions. I close my eyes and colours dance behind my eyelids, mocking me, teasing at and loosening the final restraints on this desperate insanity.

* * *

The flames are dancing. Lethal and hypnotic tongues of fire lap at my ankles as I enter the blaze. I will not struggle; this is my choice. Crisp, cool, and stultifying, my daily existence is numbing me, dulling me, killing me, dissolving what makes me who I am. To live, I must burn. Pain, and pain alone, is real. As long as I can feel the scorch of the flame, I am alive. It is when I am numb that I am dead. Like a moth, I am called inexorably by the deadly, life-giving fire. I will joyously allow it to consume me, for only when I am entirely destroyed will I be whole. It chains me so that I may be free, takes my life so I can live. I give my will to the fire so I might have choice. I welcome its ruling, for in its control I answer to no man. I am only truly alive when I burn.

* * *

**This was meant to be disjointed, because when one goes mad, life becomes disjointed.**

**TheWarriorQueen**


End file.
